


Flash before your eyes

by DanzaNelFuoco



Series: Ride the lightning [1]
Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Gen, Immortal!Hughie, Internal Conflict, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, and resurrection I guess, supe!hughie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:53:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26932423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanzaNelFuoco/pseuds/DanzaNelFuoco
Summary: Canon divergence from 02x03(Starlight kills Hughie. Hughie doesn't stay dead. Butcher doesn't know how to feel).It is said that when you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes.Hughie thinks it’s stupid because right now the only thing that’s flashing in his eyes is Starlight.Everything is bright and white and blinding and Hughie doesn’t see shit, not a single glimpse of his life or anything. The last thing impressed in his retina is Annie’s eyes lighting up before bolts of energy escape her hands.
Relationships: Billy Butcher & Hughie Campbell, Billy Butcher/Hughie Campbell
Series: Ride the lightning [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965184
Comments: 15
Kudos: 336
Collections: Banned Banned Together Bingo 2020, Banned Together Bingo 2020





	Flash before your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I'm really trash for people realizing their feelings for someone over their dead body, but I'm not strong enough to deal with the consequent angst, so here's a fic I don't really know why I wrote, but hey, at least I overcome my writer's block! 
> 
> Prompts   
> Banned Together Bingo: I’ll know it when I see it   
> Kaos Borealis: Found family

It is said that when you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes.

Hughie thinks it’s stupid because right now the only thing that’s flashing in his eyes is Starlight.

Everything is bright and white and blinding and Hughie doesn’t see shit, not a single glimpse of his life or anything. The last thing impressed in his retina is Annie’s eyes lighting up before bolts of energy escape her hands.

It all comes down to this, this fucked up life he had lived - a superhero killing his girlfriend, him killing a superhero, and now his girlfriend killing him, his girlfriend who also is a superhero. Ah, funny.

Or maybe not.

Synapsis buzz in his brain, the electrical impulses overrunning his physiological functioning and Hughie finds himself wondering…

Electrocution. He doesn’t know why, but he thought it would hurt less.

* * *

The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes again is Butcher. He’s still covered in blood and whale’s bits and he’s watching Hughie with a strange expression.

It may be that Hughie’s brain has been fried no longer than ten minutes ago, but… “Why are you here?” he asks, or tries to. His voice cracks, like dried parchment.

“I came back,” Butcher replies, still unreadable, “but not soon enough. Or so I thought.”

“What -?”

Hughie shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but the only thing he achieves is to send the room spinning, a blurring of walls and faces and shadows with Butcher’s face pinned at the center of it.

“What happened?”

“Don’t worry about it now,” Butcher says and evades his question, like he always does when the truth is shitty enough he doesn’t want to face it, “we need to take you somewhere safe.”

It gets even weirder when Butcher helps him up, putting an arm around his waist to keep him upright, and _nothing in his body hurts_.

Hughie’s not stupid, he knows that the electric charge was meant to kill him, and maybe Annie had turned it down enough to allow him to survive it, maybe she had risked tricking Homelander, but still… he had been electrocuted. His muscles should hurt and be stiff and he shouldn’t be able to put a foot in front of another. Instead, he feels wonderful, completely regenerated, and when Butcher stumbles on a crack in the floor, instead of sending them both on the ground under the instability of their position, Hughie holds his feet and rights him.

‘What the fuck?’ he wants to ask, because he is not stupid and this doesn’t make sense, but Butcher’s face hardens and he nods like he knows what is happening.

“Explain to me, what’s going on?” Hughie pleads, because he can’t get his hands on what exactly is wrong.

“I came back. You didn’t need saving.”

It doesn’t clear up anything.

It doesn’t tell Hughie that Butcher had come back to see Homelander order Starlight to kill him, that he had watched as that star-striped son of a bitch brought Annie’s hands up, aiming them at Hughie, that he had seen the slight nod of the boy’s head, that he had stayed there as the power in the building buzzed and trembled, waiting for Annie to put down her arms, to rebel, to try and kill Homelander, to do anything else but kill Hughie.

It doesn’t explain that Butcher had said “Oi, cunt” trying to bring Homelander’s attention on himself, giving up his chance to find Becca to save the idiotic canary he knew he needed even without MM’s prompting.

It doesn’t disclose to him that it was too late, that Starlight had already released her energy and Hughie’s body was convulsing on the floor, muscles contracting on external impulses, flash charring and skin smoking.

Most certainly it doesn’t reveal to him that Butcher had cursed her, he had wanted to kill her, tear her apart and leave her bloody bowels and heart and lungs leaving on the dirty floor, ripping her skin with his bare hands. That, for an instant - just for an instant before his survival instinct had kicked in and Butcher had unleashed Kenji on Homelander and Starlight, doing the only thing he could do to save himself and the rest of the boys - just for that instant Butcher had wanted to kill her more than he had wanted to kill Homelander.

‘I came back’ doesn’t account for Butcher kneeling at his side, the pain in his chest pressing so hard against his ribcage that he thought he would explode from the inside, cursing that there was no one to unleash it on, to die in a flaming blaze bringing down with him some Supe. Nor it accounts for Butcher’s shock when his chest had heaved again, a tremulous tentative breath, as if his lungs were readjusting to work again, his skin knitting itself back before Billy’s eyes, - the disbelief, the hope mixed with disgust, the anger directed against himself because “yes, let him be a Supe, let him survive this, bring him back” when ‘the only good Supe is a dead Supe’, and ‘better dead than a Supe’ and now look at him, _praying_ that Hughie really is a monster, just because he can’t stand the kid dying. Fuck. When was the last time he cared, anyway?

No, a simple sentence doesn’t tell Hughie any of this, and how could it?

“What do you mean, I didn’t need saving?”

Butcher shakes his head in a no. “There are the fucking Seven out there, shut your mouth and walk, I’ll tell you later.”

The arm around his waist burns searing hot through his clothes.

* * *

They have him laying down in a bed, even though he assures them that he’s perfectly fine, not a single broken bone in his body, not even a scratch on his skin. Damn, now that he thinks of it, even the scar from the appendectomy he had at twelve is gone - weird.

But Butcher doesn’t want to hear it, and MM’s just finishes his close medical inspection without looking him in the face.

They go outside to talk, leaving him out of it, as if he wasn’t part of the boys anymore, and they close the door behind them. Hughie hears the click of the key turning and what the fuck.

“It doesn’t mean anything, you know it,” he hears MM’s saying when he plasters his ear against the door to eavesdrop. His father told him it wasn’t polite, but again, neither is exploding someone and here Hughie is. Besides they’re talking about him, he has a right to hear.

“Of fucking course it means something. He’s like them -”

“Bullshit. Kimiko is with us, Hughie is with us, nothing changed, unless you want to.”

“I’m not Frenchie. I’m not some Supe-lover, I-”

“Supe- _lover_ , Butcher?”

Butcher scoffs. “You know what I mean.”

“ _I_ know what you mean. But do you?”

“Fuck off,” he growls and Hughie knows MM’s rolling his eyes, unimpressed, even if he can’t see him.

“Yeah, sure.”

“What do you want me to do, uh? Throw -?”

“When did you ever do something I wanted you to do?”

“- a party?”

“For fuck’s sake, Butcher, just go talk to the kid, he doesn’t even know what happened.”

“Ok, so I go in there and I tell him, ‘hi Hughie, you died and came back, you are a fucking immortal Supe, cheers’? Wonderful idea. How does this help us?”

“So, what do you want to do? Kill him too?”

Hughie should be having a mental break down because this doesn’t make sense. He’s not a Supe, there’s nothing special in him, not a single ounce, and besides his parents would have never… they wouldn’t, no, so probably Butcher has it all wrong, he can’t be a Supe, powers manifest in children, he would have known.

Except he had never died before, had he?

But Hughie ignores the thought and decides to deal with the possibility later, because right now the only thing that matters is what Butcher is gonna say.

‘So what do you want to do? Kill him too?’ MM’s words echo in his head and Butcher still doesn’t answer and silence stretches and stretches and stretches.

Hughie holds his breath and presses his ear against the door so much he thinks it’s gonna merge with it, and pretends he’s not scared shitless of what Butcher’s gonna reply - of not knowing, of not trusting him enough to choose him over his hate for Supes.

Then the key turns in the lock and Hughie scrambles to take a few steps back from the door, to keep up the pretense he hadn’t heard everything they’ve said.

Butcher comes in and closes the door.

Is he here to talk or to kill him?

But Butcher doesn’t turn, keeps his head lowered, his eyes fixed on his hand closed around the handle.

“Butcher?” Hughie asks, and his voice cracks.

“I know you were listening,” he says and still he doesn’t turn, he doesn’t move.

Hughie lets out a tremulous breath and licks his lips. “And?”

Butcher’s keeps still, stalls, as if by not turning the situation would go away.

“I’m no longer human to you, am I?” Hughie asks and it’s sad and resigned and Butcher wants to shake him - _come on, give me a reason to hate you_.

But he can’t, not really, because Supe or not, that’s still Hughie.

And it shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn’t hurt that bad. MM’s right, there’s Kimiko, they already have a Supe in their team, so what’s the big difference really? It’s not like Hughie _is_ one of them. It’s not as if all of a sudden he’s gonna turn into Translucent or A-Train - _or Homelander_ \- just because he has some powers. It shouldn’t feel like betray.

“What are you asking?” He finally turns to look at him, “If I’m here to kill you?”

Hughie jerks his head in little nervous nods, “Yeah. Yeah, that’s what I’m asking.”

He doesn’t insult him with the ‘do you really have to ask?’ that raises to his lips, because well, he remembers threatening to kill him if he were to bail on them and he had meant it back then. But after all they’ve been through? Does he really have to ask?

( _Why are buying time then_ , asks a little voice in his head, _if you’re so sure why don’t you just say it._ And the truth is, a little part of himself still thinks the right thing to do would be killing Hughie and Kimiko, the Supes at hand, before taking down the rest, so Butcher just shuts up).

“You’re immortal, Hughie,” he says instead. 

“You don’t know for sure. There’s always something that does the trick,” Hughie rambles, and there’s something hysteric in his voice, something Butcher hadn’t see for a long time. Uncertainty. The _what the fuck am I doing here, I’m a normal person_ , that Hughie left behind more or less at the Believe fest. “So are you gonna kill me?”

And Butcher allows that little part of himself to think about it, _how would I kill him?_ , just for a second, before bile raises to his mouth.

“No,” he lets out, eventually. “No, Hughie, you’re part of the team.”

And once he says those words out loud, when he makes the decision - it isn’t really a decision, MM and Franchie would have tied him to a chair and hit him in the head repeatedly ‘till he’d see sense if he were to really suggest it - the weight lifts from his chest.

Hughie deflates, tension leaving his features, and he’s the same weird misfit nerd he has always been, how the fuck could Butcher even think about him as a menace?

“I really doubted you for a second there,” he lets out a nervous laugh, and Butcher, never one to soften a blow, deadpans: 

“Yeah, well, me too.”

It should probably scare him, because it’s the truth, but maybe he has just been desensitized to risking his life and be threatened and be killed, so he just shrugs, happy that at least Butcher hasn’t tried to lie to him and asks instead:

“Not that I don’t enjoy living, but what made you decide I wasn’t better off dead?”

_Because I saw you_ dead, _you were carbon black meat and dry skin, you were not breathing and neither was I._

He doesn’t tell him, though, because he’s not a fucking pussy, he doesn’t do feelings if they aren’t revenge or hate or bloodlust.

“Come on, man, what do you want me to say,” he shrugs, “if you’re doped up, I can send you on more dangerous missions, you’re useful.”

Hughie chuckles again, because in Butcher’s language this is high praise, and maybe it’s because his brain still has some fried connection, but Hughie goes and hugs him. It’s suicide, he knows, Butcher doesn’t do hugs just as much as he doesn’t do feelings, but if he really is immortal - or at least, very resistant to permanent damage…

“Don’t be a cunt now,” Butcher says, but he pats him on the back and his arms close around his shoulder.

It lasts a few seconds, because Hughie knows he’s pushing his luck and doesn’t want to spoil this warm feeling of belonging - to the Boys, to _Butcher_ \- by making it weird and awkward; so he’s the one to end it, before the other can say anything else.

And there’s this moment, when Hughie pulls away and Butcher’s arms are still around him, just an instant when they’re about to part, but still holding each other, that Hughie looks at him, and he’s so close he can feel the warmth of his breath on his skin, so close he can really look at him and see his eyes darken and time stops and the air vibrates with possibilities, anything could happen really, anything and…

“You should really take a shower” Butcher blurts - because there’s Becca, Becca’s still alive and he can’t allow himself to forget it - and the moment is gone. Hughie’s lips tremble, so quickly he thinks he might have imagined it, before letting out a quiet chuckle.

“You know what, you aren’t that much better, Madame Báthory,” he says with his half-serious half-mocking tone, taking a step back, putting some space between them.

“I’d like to tell you I know what you’re talking about but I’m not a fucking nerd, so…”

Butcher flips his hands and smirks and Hughie finds himself smiling back.

For how screwed is this situation, everything’s gonna be as fine as it can. (If he dies - and there’s always something that does the trick - at least is gonna be with a purpose)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed, I'm planning on writing a sequel where the pre-slash (squint and you'll miss it) becomes actually slash, but I'm an inconstant writer, so who knows when that's gonna be ready.


End file.
